


A Present from the Past

by cat_77



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blackmail, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 13:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: Darcy’s past comes to try to bite her in the ass.  She bites back.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 367





	A Present from the Past

**Author's Note:**

> For the "blackmail" entry at hc_bingo.
> 
> * * *

“This has got to be a joke,” Darcy muttered under her breath. She paged through her current delivery and rolled her eyes. Nope. Not a joke. Awesome.

She must not have been as quiet as she thought, not that it was unusual for her to be wrong on that front, as Jane swiveled her chair around and asked, “A joke about what?” This was quickly followed by, “Any reason you’re digging through old pictures versus, I don’t know, actually compiling my data?”

“Data is totally compiling,” she assured her. She glanced at the progress bar and estimated how much time was remaining on that particular task. “Should be ready to go in about an hour and a half. Which would be why I pulled up my email. New message by the way, not an archived snap.”

Jane leaned in a bit closer and squinted in confusion. “Isn’t that from… Yeah, I see the Coachman logo in the back. That’s back from Culver, right? Like three pairs of glasses ago even.”

Darcy truly appreciated the fact that her boss lady noticed things like her specs and a dorky hand-painted sketch pointing the way to the restrooms, but not things like the fact her erstwhile lab assistant was topless save for a truly excellent red satin bra that unfortunately was completely out of production. Seriously, that thing lifted and cupped and held in all the right ways, with a bonus of not cutting into her shoulders. Finding a bra like that was a once in a decade event in her experience, which meant she had another couple of years to go before she found its equal.

She knew Jane was all intrigued now, so she pulled up the message that the picture had been attached to. “Some rando thinks it’s a revelation that I ended up sans shirt at some point in my college career. Demands are still forthcoming, but I’m guessing cash or research notes. What’s your money on?”

Jane snorted indelicately. “I’ve got twenty on it becoming a race between you to trace back whoever was dumb enough to send this electronically and Pepper having a lawsuit filed. You do know she’s got people for this, right? To sue or to hack, whichever is your pleasure.” She double-checked something before she made a disappointed noise. “Rats. They sent it to your personal account versus the Stark one. You would have made some IT security nerd’s day with this, you know that, right?”

Darcy pouted, and spun in her chair so that Jane could get the full effect. “That would take all my fun away,” she complained. “I’ve already traced it through three shells and a remote server, so they might actually slightly know what they’re doing. Though, the fact they managed to get into my phone should have told me that.” It wasn’t a Stark Phone, at least her personal version wasn’t. She had one of those for official Jane-related use, but liked keeping the other, older and far clunkier, model for things that she possibly would not want her boss’s boss to trace. Or at least trace as easily as she was fairly certain someone somewhere within Stark Industries could do it, possibly with their eyes closed. Plus, it pissed off more than one StarkGear loyalist like every time she’d pull it out, which was just plain entertaining.

Jane made a noncommittal noise, but then frowned. “Wait, pull up the image again?” She did as requested. “Yep, there. Not your phone. I mean, unless you were holding someone else’s and they took the pic with yours?”

Darcy blinked and grabbed her current phone back to verify, not that Jane was ever really wrong about things like that. Her work was in the details. The details of the fricken universe, but details all the same. 

She was, of course, correct. Darcy’s old-old phone, the one from her college days, was held tightly in hand. Which meant the picture was taken from a different phone. If only she could remember who the hell was around that would still care.

She actually did remember the incident, which was a surprise in and of itself. The bar that night had been busy, but not overcrowded. Some jerk still found his way to her side and, when she resisted his slime, poured his drink on her. Accident schmaccident. She had, perhaps, consumed more than a single beverage at that point, and it was hot and sticky in the place, all the more so for the cheap beer that decorated her vintage blouse. He offered to clean it, for a cost of course, and she never did figure out of that cost was going back to his place or blotting it with intense attention to her chest because she just whipped that sucker off instead and told him it wasn’t an issue. He got bitchy, then he got a knee to the balls, then other patrons started cheering her on while her friends tucked a few bills beneath her straps because they were all class like that. All in all, not that unusual of a night in her barely pre-Jane days save for the undressing part. Usually that part was reserved for Molly.

That reminded her, she should totally look her up and see how she was doing. Last time she checked, she was pre-law, which meant she had either burned out or had her own practice by now. It was fifty-fifty which, really.

“So, the question changes from why someone would hack my phone for a pic from almost seven years ago to why someone would dig out a pic from their own phone from almost seven years ago,” she mused. “And why would they choose now to collect? Like, I was on YouTube with the whole dark elves thing, why not then?”

“You weren’t on a Stark payroll then,” Jane offered before she turned back to her work. Quieter, she added, “And you weren’t in the tabloids for possibly dating a world-famous former assassin.” 

Okay, so point with that one. Last week, someone had snapped a shot of her with Bucky. Innocuous enough as they were both laughing about something and even Sam and Jane herself were clearly visible, but it had sparked speculation as everyone wanted to know if Sergeant Hottie was seeing anyone. Currently, she was in the running along with a mailroom clerk he had held the door open for, some blonde CIA chick that he knew through Cap, and Sam himself. It varied from week to week who was in the lead, so it still didn’t make sense why this would suddenly be a thing.

Then she remembered the upcoming conference. The upcoming conference where she was listed as Jane’s personal assistant so that she could get in and grab the prime food options. The upcoming conference that required a picture for the ID they would be giving her. The upcoming conference hosted by Culver and with special guests of all sorts of people currently and formerly associated with the school.

A few things started to click. Mainly her fingers on the keyboard as she started a new search.

Two hours had Jane reviewing the new compilation and her pressing send on a carefully crafted concoction. Whoever it was had sent the message to her personal email that she had opened up on her phone and not on anything Stark-related. With Jane’s blessing, and tattling to Pepper who did want to step in but also wanted to see what Darcy could do, she pulled up the message on a Stark-approved laptop that was wiped of anything of importance and connected to a secure server that was pretty much made for this sort of thing. The message itself was short and sweet and asked only what the blackmailer wanted in exchange for not publishing the picture. 

The answer, when it came, was almost disappointing. Research notes, yes, but also a monthly dividend to keep that and other pics from hitting a wider audience. She, of course, demanded proof of other images, and the idiot provided. Just two: one from the same night from when the bartender gave her a round of something decidedly not cheap beer on the house and she did a happy dance for it, and one from just before she left for New Mexico where she was damn near passed out in a booth with a margarita in front of her. She had been up all night packing and questioning her life choices, and Lara had taken her out to wash away those woes. Nothing overall damning, per se, but even she could figure out the jerk was probably setting it up to look like she was an incompetent lush and trying to ruin her career. 

Little did they know what a standard non-emergency Friday night entailed. Now that was blackmail material.

They had given her until the day of the conference to make her decision, which she assumed meant they intended the pictures to be projected there for all to see, possibly at the same time they hit all the gossip sites. She also assumed that they therefore had something set up and ready to go either now or would by the conference in two days. With these two assumptions, she felt comfortable making a third: that whoever was doing this was really, really stupid.

The day of the conference rolled around and Darcy made sure she dressed the part of the personal assistant to one of the world’s leading astrophysicists. She made actual money now, which meant she had an arsenal of tailored suits for events like this, complete with heels that were not just the platforms on her combat boots, and she even styled her hair back into a Pepper-approved power bun. She was ready to take on those assholes, whether they themselves were prepared for her or not.

The conference itself was underwhelming. The food was decent, the conversations boring and trite. There was the tiny spark of excitement from a few special guests like Jane and Bruce, who was so totally not there because Pepper told him to be in case he was needed, for really. 

He wasn’t going to be needed. She wasn’t an amateur. 

Thirty minutes before Jane was to give her presentation, she got a text right on schedule. It was a demand to know where the payment was and, attached to it was yet another picture of her in a supposedly compromising position from only a few weeks ago. She rolled her eyes because that was a tank top. A small one, but she had been getting her flirt on with someone they had somehow cropped out of the photo which should have been all sorts of warning flags to them.

The pass had worked in all the best ways, but their attempt to embarrass and intimidate her did not. They possibly reached this realization when she walked up behind them and whispered, “The game is over, Simon.”

Simon Reynolds jumped and sputtered and nearly dropped his phone that still displayed their shared message thread. He regained a shred of dignity to threaten, “All I have to do is press a button and your career is over.”

Sarah, his not-so-better-half, turned to her with a look that could only be described as a sneer and added, “Do you really think Stark Industries will still want you when they find out what kind of floozy you are?”

The click clack of heels far more deadly than anything she could ever dare made the two pause. The dulcet tones of one Pepper Potts made them damn near piss their pants. “Did you really think Stark Industries would have a problem with any of this so-called incriminating evidence? Have you ever met Tony? She’s at least clothed in her pictures and nothing is visibly on fire.”

“Aw, Pep, you said I could have my fun!” Darcy pouted. She had to admit that Potts choosing to wear a power suit nearly identical to her own was levels of awesome she only wished she had. The mental intimidation factor went from a decent six for her alone to sky rocketing to like a twelve for adding the leader of possibly the most powerful company in the world. Simon and Sarah looked downright boggled by the casual familiarity and similarities between the two women.

“I said you could have your fun until it was proven Stark Industries was tied into this in any way,” Pepper corrected. Darcy should have known she would have been careful about her phrasing when she first found out. “Not only did she just mention us by name, but that last picture was from an official SI outing to which only interns and employees were to be present.”

Again with the careful phrasing on that, but she let that one slide.

Simon showed just how dumb he truly was when he cut in with, “Which simply means that company of yours gets smeared when she does!” He very slowly and dramatically pointed his finger and aimed it towards what she assumed to be the Button of Doom on his phone. Too slowly, really.

A quick bop to the underside of the hand holding the phone followed by a swipe with the back of her hand had the cheap knockoff flying into the air. She would have caught it all suave-like, but the good Mr. Reynolds responded by aiming his now free hand for her face. She deflected and followed through with a knee to his balls. He mostly deflected that, possibly because it was such a small target to hit, and pulled the hand that was now in a fist back to strike.

That strike never hit, of course. It was caught in a shiny metal palm. A shiny metal palm attached to a super still super soldier. “Hey doll, is this twerp causing you problems?” Bucky asked as calm as could be. Some of that calm deteriorated when he turned his attention to the man in question to add, “Because I would hate to think he’d be dumb enough to swing at my girl.”

“Oh, sure, now I’m your girl,” she huffed. “Where were you like five minutes ago to make the catch?”

Bucky pretended to mull that over, all the more comical for the fact that he had yet to release the still struggling Simon. “I have a vague recollection of you insisting you could handle it all on your own? Something about wearing your ‘big girl pants’ today and everything?” He added the hint of a leer to his tone when he added, “They are very nice pants. They look good on you, doll.”

Darcy preened. “They’ll look even better later on your-”

Pepper cleared her throat to cut her off. “We appear to be attracting a crowd,” she pointed out. She turned to address Bucky and said, “Sergeant Barnes, if you would be so kind as to allow Stark Security to escort Mr. Reynolds to his next locale? I believe it will be a holding cell.”

Bucky nodded, but anything he said was cut off by Sarah, who was now holding a familiar phone in her hands. “I’ll push the button. Destroy all of you,” she warned.

“Eh, do it,” Darcy shrugged. Bucky looked concerned for all of about a second before he caught on that she must have had something else up her designer sleeve. Her failsafes had failsafes. You didn’t work next to people like the actual fact Avengers without realizing such things were occasionally necessary.

Sarah didn’t seem to buy a clue and dramatically pressed her finger against the screen. The results were not quite what she was hoping for.

The various monitors and projectors around them lit up with the message threads and threats, followed by the trace back to the culprits. Extra bonus points for the separate message threads between Sarah and Simon planning the whole thing out. Extra-extra bonus points for the video footage of just a few minutes ago with the threat against Darcy and SI all rolled up into one. It was followed by a large legal disclaimer that Stark Industries takes all blackmail and extortion threats very seriously and vows to punish all involved to the fullest extent of the law.

It was pretty, really. She owed Pep extra cookies for that last part.

“Your career is over!” Sarah screamed at her. She threw the phone at her and Darcy surprised herself more than her boyfriend by catching it before even he could contort himself to do so. 

She handed it over to the nice security officer who had arrived at her side with a curt and professional nod. She then ruined any facet of that demeanor by adding, “Dude, you’re the one ending up in cuffs.”

The rest of the conference was sadly uneventful. Darcy got some free drinks and a lot of job offers. She accepted the former and turned down the later. She had promised that she would never leave Jane until she got really annoying or Stark Industries did something even her dubious morals objected to. They protected their own, and she could get behind that.

Another thing she could get behind was Bucky. Or in front of. Or to the side of. Or… It was entirely possibly that her personal defense glower system may have held off a few more of the offers, as well as most of the annoying questions from people looking for the whole story. She lost track after a while as she had much prettier things to look at.

That night, changed into a comfortable lack of pajamas, she was cuddled up next to her great non-defender. “Hey Buck,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her even though his eyes had been closed a moment ago.

“Yeah, doll?” he replied.

“I still have that tank top. What do you say we go down to Coney Island this weekend and offend the locals with it?”

His response was exactly what she was hoping for. He tugged her on top of himself and kissed her senseless. When he finally released her enough that she could pull back to grin down at him, he said, “You’re a menace, you know that, right?”

“But I’m your menace?” she guessed.

“Damn right,” he replied.


End file.
